Lost in Translation
by BanishedOne
Summary: When a French-speaking boy named Matthew is taken from his home in New France by a couple of Englishmen, a young cowboy who is more than what he appears comes to Matthew's aid.


_Written by Zena007 and BanishedOne_

:: ::

"And I'll take that one."

Four young girls, now five with the most recent addition, were aligned against a wall while a man with thick eyebrows inspected them more closely. This man, along with another, had strode into the makeshift trades house not even an hour earlier and had all but picked them clean.

A blonde haired boy glowered at them from his crouched position by the cooking crook, hating them, especially the one who had been "handling" the girls for the other man, being so rough with them that two of them had clear bruises on their hands. His blue eyes darkened with such loathing that it actually caught the shady man's attention; he turned from his place at the green-eyed man's side to stare at the young orphan, noting the matted curly locks and filthy face, twisted with a grimace so fierce that it made him...laugh.

"Are you angry wif' us for taking your friends?" He strode closer, thick accent still hanging in the air.

No time was wasted as the man bent down and picked Matthew up by his tattered shirt, landing the boy on his bare feet before him. "Did you want'a go wif' us, 'den?"

Not knowing English kept Matthew from answering, however, his glare remained intact. The disgusting man noticed and laughed louder, the bark from his laughter pushing the fallen stray pieces of hair from Matthew's face that had come to rest there after his abrupt tousling. The man paused, now taking a closer look at the child, mouth ajar just slightly and then..."You're a b-...?"

"Thomas!," the more well-dressed man called, "Stop dawdling and let us be on our way! Get these girls into the carriage!" The man stood, his blonde hair messily poking out from underneath a top hat, stopped at the top stair, not so patiently awaiting the other man.

"Wait, sir, wait a minute!," Thomas called in reply, dragging the blonde-hair boy along behind him, "Can we take 'dis one along as well? I'll pay for her out of me own pocket!"

"There is no more room in the carriage, you fool! Do not try my patience!"

"She can sit up front, wif' me, 'dere's room 'dere!"

A long sigh. "Very well. I expect us to be on our way in five minutes at most, and not a second longer." And with that, in a whirl of a flowing cloak, the Englishman was out of sight, the tapping of his heeled shoes easily audible as he descended the stairs.

Gleefully, the man called Thomas tugged the young boy along, whereas Matthew, completely unaware of the happenings of his fate, tumbled along behind him for the first few steps. However, when the boy regained his bearings, he stopped short. Thomas paid him no mind at that moment, going forward to pay the mistress and then sent the girls down the stairs. After doing so, he turned to grab Matthew once more and paid the mistress at the same time. She was surprised at first, looking from the extra money in her hand to Matthew, but she soon shrugged her shoulders and walked away, counting her coins as she did so.

The young boy watched the transaction with a horrified expression, knowing exactly what had taken place without words and the began shaking his head furiously. "Non, non!"

The dark haired Thomas tightened his grip and grinned wickedly. "Everyone has a price, eh, lad? Now, come along, you belong ta' me now."

Just like that, Matthew was dragged down the stairs, the overwhelming dread in his gut temporarily making his legs inoperable, them just feeling like jelly beneath him.

Once dragged out the front door of the trades house, he was seated at the front of the carriage and after the girls were stowed away, he was joined by Thomas, who took the reins and began taking Matthew away from the place he had only just become accustomed to.

:: ::

It was quite some time before the little band came to an inn. After dodging routine patrols, they crossed the border from the Northern Colonies of New France onto American soil. The little boy hailing from the colony of Canada looked up in wonder at the large surrounding structures, having never seen so many buildings so towering in his short life. But the moment was spoiled after barely a minute, Thomas having reached over to rub at his inner thigh none too subtly. Recoiling instantly, Matthew scooted as far away as he could, growling.

"Feisty as always, ain't cha? Well, since you're not willing to even let me touch you at the moment, go put the horses up. Scat!" Thomas struck Matthew and he tumbled from his seat. From the ground, he looked up at the man, who was pointing agitatedly at the horses and then the stalls meant for them. Begrudgingly, the young boy raised himself up tentatively and quickly went to do what had been clearly indicated of him.

A mad dash of noise announced the arrival of another traveler; this particular traveler was a male youth, not a child any longer, but not quite a man either. He rode into town on a black mare that gleamed a smoky grayish color in the light, and whose shiny black hooves where decorated by white socks with wildly kinked fur. The long-legged, spirited horse was the perfect match for her young rider, seeming to sprint at top speed through busy streets, as though for the sole intent of saying 'look at me, look at me!' while the young man on her back grinned at his skillful control, even among crowds of people.

The blonde teen finally gave a tug on his horse's reins, and she skidded to a stop before an inn with stables, flicking her tail as she stirred up dust, and drew a few onlookers in the commotion. The young man just laughed to himself, and climbed down from his saddle, either oblivious or not caring what anybody else thought of his incredibly careless behavior.

"Good girl, Eclaire!," he spoke to his horse in a sunny tone, giving her nose a stroke as he took her reins and began toward the stable. He intended to stable her for a short time, pick up some supplies as he'd been instructed, then ride back out to where he'd made camp.

The commotion had Matthew whipping his head around and jumping back, afraid that he had gotten caught up in some sort of scuffle. The horses he had been unbuckling from the carriage reared slightly in nervousness and as the young boy had been leaning on them for support, the sudden movement sent him sprawling to the ground. The next thing he knew, he was covered in a cloud of dust that his lifted arm did nothing to protect him from.

He coughed painfully from the inhaled particles but when the dust finally settled down and he blinked into focus, he lost his breath all over again.

A magnificent _chevelle_ stood before him. Never had the boy seen such a grand creature! She pawed the ground with one hoof and it was only then that Matthew noticed a silhouette dismount, a care-free laugh alerting him to another's presence. The noise startled the little Quebec boy out of his stupor and he shot to his feet, wanting to gather his own horses in order to follow the beautiful mare so to continue looking upon her since she was being lead into the stables.

Following closely, Matthew chose a stall two down from where the young man had taken his black horse and after shutting the door behind his animals, he took to brushing them languidly, his blue eyes barely wavering from the sight not too far from him.

Having stabled his horse, the blonde, young man began off in pursuit of the supplies he was meant to pick up. They were running incredibly low on ammunition, trap snares and anything otherwise edible. One thing was certain, young Alfred F. Jones was never more hungry than after a hard day of work. His appetite was distinctly 'European', as the native man he'd been traveling with had remarked, but it wasn't as though the blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy could really deny that. But this was just the native man's way of calling Alfred a glutton. He just laughed it off.

The young man, after making a run to a nearby general store, doing some bartering and making some purchases, stepped into the inn to buy some food supplies. Preserved fruit spreads and vegetable mixes, dried beans, oats, cornmeal, rice, flour, butter, coffee, bread and jerky were really the best he could get for traveling with.

"Thanks a lot!," Alfred's cheerful voice thanked the other as he was given a bag of food supplies, and he tucked it into his rucksack. It was as he was doing this that he was sure he heard a familiar voice; it was the 'classy' ring of this person's precise enunciations that first caught Alfred's attention, and within moments he was entirely sure who this voice belonged to.

The click of fancy shoes approached with the sound of this particular voice conversing with another man from the sound of things, and Alfred quickly turned back to the person he'd just purchased items from, awkwardly 'umm'ing', pretending he had some further business as the familiar voice and the body belonging to it passed by behind him, seemingly oblivious.

As the man passed, Alfred turned a cautious stare over his shoulder, finally completely and utterly sure of what he'd suspected as he caught sight of his former father-figure. Arthur Kirkland-Great Britain.

The LAST person Alfred wanted to see. What was he even doing here? Alfred was less curious than he was just wanting to avoid any confrontation; not that he was frightened, hell no! It was just a huge awkward situation waiting to happen! So he would avoid it instead! He quickly rushed past behind Arthur and otherwise out of sight, to an exit.

When Alfred returned to the stable, he carried a leather sack of supplies over his shoulder by a woven strap, and in his other hand he'd brought out a piece of jerky that he decided to snack on. Why not reward himself, right? He went out to do chores, yeah, CHORES, AND ran into Britain! It had been a rough day!

As the young man began past one of the stables near where he'd left his own horse, though, he noticed a young girl, perhaps around the same age as himself. What he found most eye-catching about this girl though, was that she actually, despite being a girl, looked very much like him, like she could be his little sister. This realization brought on the feeling that Alfred had met this person before, maybe... it was weird.

Still, Alfred came to stand at the gate of the stable where the young girl was tending to her own horses, noticing her stealing glances of Eclaire, and thought it a perfect conversation starter. He gave his hat a flick, tipping it back smoothly and he smiled at the girl. "Ya' know, if you're so interested in Eclaire, you can come over and say hello. She's a little excitable, but she's really friendly."

The smooth voice was what snapped Matthew from his daydream, it having involved riding that amazing creature far away from everything, and Matthew turned with a start to the source. He found an oddly dressed young teen with a large hat smiling at him and it was only after a long, expectant pause did the boy remember that he had been spoken to and the other had been awaiting a response.

"Ahh, j'm excuse! Je ne parle pas..." Matthew stopped, also remembering he was in another country and that this obvious...American, was it? probably wouldn't understand him.

"Huh?," the older boy uttered, tilting his head to the side in a way that further highlighted his confused expression. "Um..Yeah, I don't really understand. Do you speak English?" Alfred sighed, disappointed that it seemed he wouldn't be able to communicate with the girl after all. He leaned forward and chewed at his jerky stick in a downtrodden manner.

It happened, though, that there was a word in English that Matthew thought would help him explain himself, him having learned it from the various Englishmen that visited the trades house as they often used it to describe the girls. He titled his head in the direction of the teen's horse and quietly uttered a, "Pretty", though his tongue rolled slightly on the "r", producing more of a breathy 'rgr' sound. The young boy smiled meekly, hoping what he said to be sufficient.

The older male's bright, blue eyes flashed up, the vibrant light returning to them as the one he assumed to be a young girl uttered one word in English, and it was enough to renew the interaction.

"Ahh , yeah!," he glanced over at Eclaire, then back to the blonde-haired girl before him, "She is pretty!"

The young American realized very quickly that a simple spoken response wouldn't really be enough to keep the communication, and he shoved the jerky between his teeth, holding it there to free up his hand. With one hand free, he opened the gate to the stall the girl was waiting around in and he walked in to take her hand without much reservation about it. Then, he tugged her gently but without giving her much option but to follow, making sure to kick the stall door closed behind him.

There was an immediate feeling of hesitance from Matthew when his hand was grabbed up by the other, but it was warm and the touch was kind, so he allowed himself to be lead away.

After successfully dragging the other blonde youth along, Alfred hurried over to the stall where he was keeping Eclaire, intent on showing off, despite the language barrier. He opened the stall door, and led the young girl inside.

However, the presence of another person momentarily surprised the black horse, and she jolted back and reared in bitter response to being crowded.

Blue eyes of the younger male widened and he began to shrink nervously back as the horse reared, until the young man before him extended an arm out in front of him, shielding him. Matthew turned a curious, observant gaze to the young American, finding that the older boy's demeanor was entirely calm, otherwise.

"Eclaire, will you just cool it?," Alfred spoke as he strode forward, and simply reached up for the reins, giving the hanging rope a smooth tug that easily returned the horse to all four feet. She snorted in disdain for the manhandling, but he patted her apologetically, and when he produced some cubed sugar from his vest pocket, she easily forgave him.

"She is a sugar fiend, I swear it," he spoke up in a lighthearted tone, and laughed as he turned blue eyes back to his company. "She's calm now, I promise!"

The teen's blue eyes were ever so vibrant as he spoke to Matthew, as though he'd forgotten that the younger male couldn't understand a word. It was in that instant, that the young orphan felt himself wishing that he -could- understand this foreigner. He was becoming mesmerized with how carefree and simply relaxed he was, though it did make him jealous. But he quickly pushed such thoughts aside, focusing more on how warm and familiar the American seemed to him, however unsettled that made him feel at the same time.

Smiling politely, Matthew moved nearer, and a small hand was lifted up to pet the horse's shiny black hindquarters tentatively at first, then with more confident strokes when Matthew noted no resistance. His smile grew and he beamed at the young American, hoping to communicate how grateful he was to have this opportunity without words.

As the quiet, french-speaking company managed to decipher enough of what was going on, despite not understanding English, the American quietly watched. He finished off his jerky as his eyes glanced back and forth between the one he'd assumed was a girl and his horse, his way of being secretive.

She looked like she had been through some rough stuff, with her ragged clothes and dirtied features, but Alfred was unbothered and thought little of these things. Personally, he'd always been more comfortable with people who weren't afraid to get a little dirty; it was the people that looked too polished to be truly living that really made him edgy.

And then, a sudden sound resounded throughout the stables, interrupting the stillness. The stable door banged from the force of which it was shoved open and Matthew immediately dropped his hand and ran to the stall gate.

Thomas was striding towards the stalls where the boy had gated the horses and the young Canadian, panicking, quickly removed himself from the American's presence with a nervous head nod and darted in the Englishman's direction.

As the 'girl' went rushing off before Alfred even had much chance to say goodbye, he raised his hand to her in a wave anyway, though she didn't seem to notice, so he just shrugged to himself and fastened his rucksack to the saddle on his horse. Still, out of pure curiosity, he turned and slowly stuck his head out of the gate, peering out to watch the girl as she hurried toward a man.

As Matthew returned to Thomas, fearfully apprehending some sort of punishment, an idea popped into his head as he caught glimpse of a pitch fork leaning against one of the barn's pillars and he snatched it up on his way by, hoping it would pass as a reason for his absence at the stables should Thomas inquire. Luckily, an excuse apparently wasn't needed for as soon as the man caught sight of him, making sure to look him up and down first with a slimy grin blooming on his face, he changed his direction and came to meet Matthew, grabbing up his chin as soon as he was within range.

"Now 'dere's me pretty little 'fing," the man breathed in a malicious tone.

The Canadian tried to flinch away, from that awful face and that even nastier alcohol-tinted breath, but the grip on his visage was locked tightly. Meanwhile, as Alfred watched from afar, catching sight of the older man roughly grasping that young girl by the face, he wrinkled his brow in disgust. However, he immediately acknowledged that his spying wouldn't be taken lightly if he were caught, so he quickly ducked down in the stall to listen.

"We be in for a treat, we is," the Englishman began, "Good ol' Arfuh' shacked us up separately, he did, on account 'vat 'dere be more room in 'dis inn than all 've ovuhs' we've been sleepin' in. It was always 'da girls in one room an' me an' 'im in anuvuh', but not 'dis time, me boy!"

The eavesdropping American strained to listen, but found it to be moderately difficult, because Eclaire was confused by her owner's unusual behavior and walked over behind him, nudging him with her soft, black nose, and puffing at him gently for attention.

"shhh!," Alfred hissed at the horse, putting one hand against her nose to quiet her.

All the teen was able to hear was muffled babbling, and he rolled his eyes at the distinct British accent he could make out, though the man's pronunciations deterred Alfred from understanding anything really... Even when a rather familiar name came up, he almost missed it; Arthur. (How could Arthur stand having henchmen that pronounced his name like 'Ar'fuh'?)

Alfred finally just stood up again, and casually turned his head to get another look at the slimy bastard. He sneered from just a simple glance. That man looked like the kind of scum Britain dragged about like his own dark, unnoticeable shadow, to do his dirty work.

As he clearly had perfectly good reason to be here, Alfred went about his business in a way he thought looked casual. He tugged his hat down slightly to shroud his face, but otherwise quietly kept to himself, hoping to get closer and hear a bit more. He unfastened the reins from Eclaire's head, and pulled the headcollar off of her, and she shook her mane happily; then, Alfred walked slowly out from the stall and over to a hanging rack for equipment that was a bit nearer to where the girl and the older British man stood.

At Thomas's explanations, the French-speaking boy felt the man's hand begin to tremble and he watched, with gut churning, as a tongue came out to flick now and again over chapped lips. "We..." A single, filthy finger passed over Matthew's lips, causing him to shudder violently, "...are goin' to have a good time tonight, ain't we, lit'le one?"

As the Englishman spoke, Alfred just managed to overhear, and he stood stock-still at those words as he processed them, biting his lip in abhorrence for this character, thrust into a blatant moral dilemma.

Matthew, on the other hand, was unsure what was said, and opted for a set glare but when he was tugged along gleefully by Thomas, it dropped away and he turned to look worriedly behind him, though he wasn't certain as to why. Something wasn't right, that much he could decipher, but he wasn't entirely sure of what that was. As a result, he allowed himself to be led away, out the barn door and into the beginning twilight.

As the blonde teen stood, the two left the stable, but the young nation then moved to turn a cold blue stare over his shoulder as that young girl was tugged away against her will.

Wandering back toward the stall where he'd left Eclaire, Alfred puzzled this situation, his heart and mind in bitter disagreement, which stuck him between a rock and a hard place. All of the worlds wrongs weren't his to right, were they? He couldn't stick his nose into the business of others, even if he felt a moral obligation to do so, could he? He was sure that a wiser man might tell him that he couldn't save the world, and shouldn't try, and that it wasn't his place anyway, and that he knew too little to make the right choice... but he never was a good listener anyway.

He made it back into the stall where Eclaire was waiting patiently, and he began removing her saddle though he was sure he'd be putting it back on a bit later anyway.

Still...

"..It looks like we'll be staying a bit longer, girl, so you might as well get comfy."

:: ::

TBC

::


End file.
